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Inescrutables Motivos (Relato)
Todas las tierras al norte de Pragg lay burned and blackened, an unending expanse of darkness dotted with splintered stumps and tumbled stone where once leafy woods and neatly thatched cottages had stood amidst verdant pasture. The ground smoked where fires still smouldered beneath the ashen surface, gasping lonely threads of smoke which twisted slowly upwards into the still air. "The horde had done its work well my lord", grunted Greygave. His thick tongue and loose lips worked hard to produce the uneasy speech of man, for Greygave was a beastman, one of the goat-headed creatures of Chaos that had joined Sebastian Scarabus' warband last summer. Already the giant, grey-skinned beastmen had proven himself a loyal and cunning lieutenant to his chosen champion. Scarabus, gaunt and slender like the blackened trunk of the tree beside him, gazed over the blasted plain. The devastation unsettled him. He felt as if all about him were the pieces of some vast puzzle which it was his task to resolve and yet of which he and his followers were also an inextricable part. He stretched the broad wings that grew from his back, allowing the air to rustle through the sparkling iridescent feathers. His keen eyes scanned the pall of charred destruction which smothered what had once been the fertile hinterland of Pragg. To the south a thick column of oily smoke climbed high into the sky like a black serpent dancing over the cold corpse of the land. Scarabus knew that sign, the coiling spiral shape that was one of the emblems of his own master Tzeentch. Under that sinister serpent of smoke was the city of Pragg itself and the encircling horde of Chaos. "Are we too late?" snorted Greygave in his harsh beastman's voice. In answer the Champion of Chaos spread his wings, driving the ait into turmoil so that great clouds of ash rose around him, causing Greygave to shield his eyes from the blinding dust. With slow strong wing-beats Scarabus ascended into the sky like a huge swan. Greygave watched his master grow smaller and smaller until he could barely discern the tiny dark shape against the pale sky. The beastman knew that Scarabus had flown high into the air from where his eagle-sharp eyes could spy out the countryside for many miles around. For a moment it seemed as if Scarabus was gone, leaving Greygave and the rest of the warband alone amidst the ruined earth. As his powerful wings carried him into the sky, Scarabus felt the rush of cool air over his skin. His gift, the glittering wings that sprouted from his slender back, were more than just a convenient way of travelling quickly and unseen. To Scarabus his wings were a part of his new life in the service of Tzeentch the Changer of the Ways. The realm of the earth, which he had hitherto considered the only existence, now seemed like a small dark prison in which a mortal man was forever chained. He had become a creature of the cool unsullied air whose masters were the eagles and hawks, and whose peoples were the finches and thrushes and the myriad buzzing insects that rode the wind. He knew that it was hard for the earth-bound to imagine the unbridled joy of flight. Sometimes it was all too easy, lost amongst unfettered elation, to forget the world below. Sebastian Scarabus spread his broad wings and rolled over in the sky. Beneath him the blackened earth stretched from horizon to horizon as far as his eagle-keen eyes could see. To the south, under a column of dark smoke, lay the embattled city of Pragg and all around it glittered the banners and spearpoints of the most formidable army Scarabus had ever seen. Small fires burned within the city walls but the walls themselves were unbreached. Far below Greygave peered uncertainly into the sky. His master seemed to have been gone for hours, yet it could not be so, for flight exhausted Scarabus quickly and could not be sustained for great lenghts of time. As he watched a dark spot reappeared far above, small and dim at first, and then larger and darker until, with a flurry of ash, Sebastian Scarabus returned to Greygave's side. "Pragg still stands my friend", announced Scarabus breathlessly, "though for how much longer i would not hazard a guess". Although obviously exhausted he could not conceal the elation that still pulsed in his blood. He stretched his wings once more and then folded them against his back, the long flight feather gently resting upon his heels. "Then we join the horde to plunder the man-city?" slavered Greygave eagerly. Scarabus looked into the beastman's eyes and saw a glimmer of hatred, a desire to fight and confront the object of his hatred and to destroy it regardless of consequence. The champion shook his head slowly. "No Greygave - I've not come to tear at the entrails of this dying city, there are enough wolves here already for that. Tzeentch has led us to Pragg for another purpose, although i can't yet guess what that purpose is or what part we have to play in it". Scarabus turned to face the rest of his warband and looked at them each in turn: Tagard, Olgoth and Duega the beastmen cradling their tall axes, Thorfin the dwarf whose eyes stood out on stalks and who was a deadly and adversary as the strongest giant, Mund Bonesnapper the minotaur whose body was as tough as iron, the elf Falanor crimson-skinned master of the bow, Sourmain the thing so deformed that no-one knew what kind of creature it had once been, and Greygave the trusted second in command of the warband, huge, grey furred with fearless eyes. "My friends", cried Scarabus, "we march to Pragg and to an uncertain destiny, to fight against the greatest Chaos Horde ever to blight the earth". Unquestioningly every member of the warband lifted his weapon into the air and cried, "Scarabus" with one mighty voice, shouting their champion's name over and over, until it became a chant brimming with battle-lust. Sebastian Scarabus listened to his name flooding out over the dead ground. Yes - he would lead his band through the Chaos Horde and into Pragg itself - what then? Perhaps all would become clear once they were within the city walls. Maybe Pragg guarded secrets that Tzeentch wanted for himself, or which he feared might fall into the hands of others. In any case, he knew that it was useless to speculate on the motives of his master. Scarabus turned his face towards Pragg and wondered how fortune would treat his venture, and what inscrutable schemes he was already enacting on behalf of Tzeentch the Changer of the Ways. Fuente * Suplemento Realm of Chaos: Slaves to Darkness (3ª Edición). Categoría:Pendiente de traducir Categoría:Relato Guerreros del Caos